Be free, little bird
by WildWolfForever
Summary: Danielle Finch lives happily in District Seven, until on the reaping of the 43rd annual Hunger Games her brother, Jay, is chosen and she steps up as tribute. Can she fool Panem into thinking she's a boy? Will she survive the arena? Do I suck at summary's? Read on and see!


**Authors note: Only after writing chapter one did I notice that Hunger Games already centers around birds... Yea I'm kinda an idiot, so please don't think the two are connected, I just like the name Jay, read and review! -Wolf**

"Hey bird boy!" called Rodger, sneering down at Jay. "What do you want?" replied Jay, continuing to walk, even speeding up a little. "Don't you have some eggs to go lay?" Rodger said laughing. His gang of friends began to make bad imitations of bird noises. Now they had him surrounded, he had no means of escape. "Just let me get to class" Jay muttered quietly, trying to push through the wall of other boys. "Heh, now why would we do that, we've barely had any fun yet… Unless your, I dunno, chicken!" said Rodger, bursting into another fit of laughter. "He said, let him get to class" I said, looming over the group of younger boys. Rodger took one look at me and blushed red. "Yes Ma'am, sorry Ma'am" said Rodger. He, along with his five or so other, friends scurried off. Jay gave a sigh. "Thanks Danielle" he muttered. "That's what I'm here for, little brother" I said, tousling his hair playfully. Jay gave another sigh. "What's up?" I asked, squatting in front of him. I was fifteen, three years older than him, and I was tall for my age which made the height difference quite significant between my brother and I. "Nothing" he said, trying to make his best 'nothing' face. He couldn't get past me that easily. I put my hand on his shoulder. "Spill it, now" I said firmly. "Okay…" he muttered. "I'm worried" he said. "About Rodger and his goons?" I asked. "Jay, you know I'll always have your back against them" I said, my face softening to a smile. "No, not about them, I know you'll always help me" he said, leaning forward and giving me a hug. Some girls walking past giggled. "Maybe a school corridor isn't the best place to have this conversation" I said. I looked over to the clock stuck on the wall. "Argh, late for class!" I said, jumping up. "See you at home, little bro" I said before running off to my geography lesson.

The air was cool, with an early summer breeze, reminding me that summer vacation was only a few days away. '_And the reaping'_, I thought. No, I refused to think of that. I began my walk home from school. Soon the town faded away to a quieter suburban street. Home. I ran down the street to our house, the one at the end of the road facing the entrance to the street. It was big enough, not huge but sufficient to cater to the needs of our four person, and a dog, family. There were some grander houses in the estate, bigger and fancier, some even had cars parked in the driveway, but we had the biggest garden, and that was, at least in Jay's eyes, the best bit. I walked up the drive way and past dad's cart. It was half filled with logs and his horse, Marcy, was shackled to it, stamping her huge hooves in anticipation. "Who's a good girl…" I said to her as I patted her on the head. I walked into the house, slung my bag over a chair and slumped down at our kitchen table. The teachers were just as anticipated for summer as the kids and hadn't given us homework the last few days. The back door was flung open and Jay rushed in. He got out of school earlier than me, an advantage of his age. "Hey Dan" he said, grabbing some paper and a pencil from the cupboard and running back outside, slamming the door firmly behind him. 'He must be in his tree house' I thought. Just then, my mother swept into the kitchen, humming and carrying several dresses. "Ah Danielle" she said, setting the dresses on the table. Although my father and Jay mostly call me Dan, mother always calls me Danielle. It was her choice of name, Jay was fathers choice, she hates the informality of just three letters for a name, but grudgingly accepted it. "Yes mother?" I asked. She always made us call her mother, not mum or mummy. "A mummy is what children?" she used to ask us, "A dead person" we used to replied boredly. "And I am certainly not one of those!" she would reply. "And mum is short for mumble, and what do we not do?" she would ask, "Not mumble" we would reply, trying not to mumble as we said it. "Come come, a young woman must wear the proper attire to a formal event such as a reaping" she said, though I could feel her eyes burning into me as she scanned me. I didn't have her thin, short composure, I had the tall well built stature of my lumberjack father and among other things, my long brown hair was tangled and frizzy, and even though she constantly made me brush it, it remained the same. I took one look at the pile of dresses on the table and groaned. This was gona be a long night.


End file.
